


Burn it to the Ground

by a_dale



Category: Captain America (Movies), Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Escaping Together, Gen, James and Stiles escape Hydra together, One Shot, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Stiles returns James' memories to him, goodbye brainwashing, goodbye hydra, post TV series Stiles Stilinski, pre-catws
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-21
Updated: 2018-11-21
Packaged: 2019-08-27 02:44:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16693942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_dale/pseuds/a_dale
Summary: The Soldier hears a fight he can't ignore. For the first time he can remember, he doesn't try to.





	Burn it to the Ground

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little plot bunny that was hopping around in my thoughts.

The Soldier wasn’t quite sure why it caught his attention, but when the screams started, he was on his feet before he’d even registered what he was hearing.

“Soldier, stand down.” One of the handlers snapped out, but the Soldier couldn’t even hear him, not with the screams ringing in his ears. He was still in his gear from his last mission - supposed to debrief while he’d unloaded, but he’d only removed a single gun and it was still in his hand. The screams tapered off only to be followed by the sound of a fight and the Soldier was off, putting a bullet into the head of everyone who tried to stop him.

 

The first thing he saw when he arrived was the silver chair and he pushed away the wave of terror he didn’t understand. The chair was crackling with electricity, like it had been shorted, and the Soldier knew without a doubt it wasn’t supposed to do that. His eyes moved from the chair to the fight and it was instantly clear who was fighting, but he could hardly even look at the opponents, eyes fixed on the pale, mole dotted skin, the whiskey coloured eyes that just screamed with violence and the Soldier knew it was for retribution over the many injuries lining his skin. Then those whiskey eyes fell on him, catching his gaze, and for a moment time seemed to freeze. Those eyes seemed to reach right inside of him, and it was like claws reached through the hazed blackness in his mind before they tore it open to let the light through. He didn’t notice when he fell, catching himself on one knee, not until he had to push himself back to his feet, and he was all but vibrating with rage.

He wasn’t just the Soldier.

He was James Buchanan Barnes, with the 107th, and now he knew everything they’d taken from him.

The gunshots rang out in quick succession and then it was only him and the man left in the room, staring at each other. He knew it wasn’t normal to be able to rip someone’s memories forward like that, knew he would be paying the price for all these memories later, but that wasn’t the most important thing at the moment.

“We can’t stay here.” James stated, and the man nodded, finally breaking their gaze, but when he went to take a step he swayed. James darted forwards to catch him, taking his weight with his flesh arm.

“Getting your memories,” the man gasped out, “kinda took it out of me.” And James didn’t bother telling him he shouldn’t have, because the man’s tone made it obvious he’d do it again the same way if he had to.

“That why they have you down here? You got some sort of mind magic?” And the grin the man offered him was wolfish.

“They had no idea I could do that.” But there wasn’t anymore time to talk because James could hear the booted footsteps approaching.

“Can you walk?” And the man grimaced but nodded.

“Stay behind me.” And then he was off, trusting the man to follow, and knowing from the way the skin along the back of his neck tingled that he was. They made it to the surface by the skin of their teeth, James’ guns nearly all empty, and Stiles only just managing to shuffle after him, but when they made it outside Stiles turned back with magic sparking in his eyes.

“How do you feel about fire?” And James throat was too tight to answer, so he just nodded. The man turned back to the base and his hands raised in the air towards it. Once more, power sang along his skin, jumping like electricity from point to point. It was with a dampened BOOM that the base exploded outwards, the remains blazing. Then the man turned back to James, satisfied but exhausted. James didn’t hesitate to catch him as he fell unconscious, hefting him across his shoulders in a fireman’s hold. No matter what it took, he wasn’t going to leave this man behind, not after what he’d done for him.

 

>>>

 

James watched as the man regained consciousness, watched as he went stiff before a shudder went through him, and knew it was probably from pain. He’d done some quick first aid to the injuries he could see, but he hadn’t wanted to do too much - especially not knowing exactly what they’d done - if what he did would make the man’s injuries worse. So instead he made him as comfortable as possible before setting up post by the window, keeping guard. James watched as the man’s eyes flew open - the moment of panic before recognition slipped in, though now it was paired with a wariness that hadn’t been there before. Considering they technically no longer needed each other to escape, James supposed he could understand where the wariness came from, but he didn’t like it much. The man offered a nod before swallowing with another wince.

“Thanks for getting me out of there.” And James didn’t bother to hide his frown.

“You gave me back my memories.” the man shrugged, not disagreeing, but it was clear he didn’t necessarily agree either.

“True, but that doesn’t exactly tell me anything about who you are. I didn’t see your memories, only gave them back to you.” A vicious hatred appeared in his eyes. “They had no right to take them in the first place.” Then he grimaced, pushing himself into a sitting position, eyes cataloging his own injuries before looking back up. “I’m Stiles.” James nodded, accepting the name, but he took a moment before he responded. He knew now who he'd been, but he could now also remember what he'd become. He shook the thought off, resolve strengthening. 

“Bucky.” And Bucky watched as the man - Stiles - went absolutely still before his gaze turned slowly to meet his own.

“No fucking way.” And Bucky stayed perfectly still as those whiskey eyes took in every little detail. “How?” And there was that rage again - all for him.

“Cryogenic freezing.” And he paused, forcing himself not to wince. “And that chair.” The whiskey eyes almost went opaque, but then they cleared again and he sighed.

“Well shit. That certainly complicates things, doesn’t it. They probably had you doing assassinations. Probably at least one person you’d known. Bastards.” Then he met Bucky’s gaze again. “Well I know what I want to do now, but what do you want?” Bucky thought about Steve - how he knew now that the other was alive - knew he was out there still playing that damn hero card - but as much as he wanted to see his best pal again he also wanted to tear the heart out of every Hydra agent who thought they could just use him against his own - thought there would never be repercussions.

“I want to tear them apart.” And he was watching Stiles now - watching as the slow grin spread across his face, the sparks crackling along his skin. He was pretty sure whatever those sparks were they were accelerating his healing.

“Good.” and Bucky felt that same rush of surety. No matter what it took, he was going to stick with this man. 


End file.
